


Kentaco Fried Chicken and a Pizza Heart

by bobaheadshark



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Debate it in the comments, Dominique Ansel has the same culinary value as a Beigel Bake, F/M, Fluff, Food as a Metaphor for Love, London, Meet-Cute, Very Minor Cameos from Rose & Finn & Hux & Kaydel, Very not vegetarian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:02:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22911424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobaheadshark/pseuds/bobaheadshark
Summary: Some things in life, Rey thinks, are guaranteed – death, taxes, and the siren call of deep fried chicken after a girls’ night out.“One Kentaco, please,” Rey tells the harried-looking bloke behind the counter of the Camden High Street KFC.----A short Reylo love story, told through takeout.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 59
Kudos: 200





	Kentaco Fried Chicken and a Pizza Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Reylohirrim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reylohirrim/gifts).



> Dedicating this to [Sadie](https://twitter.com/reylohirrim), whose hilarity, knowledge and fandom passion has made my Reylo experience such good fun. Our conversations about London inspired this fluff. 
> 
> Before we start – this is a [Kentaco](https://sethlui.com/kfc-kentaco-singapore-feb-2020/). And yes it's as horrifying (or er, great?) as it sounds.
> 
> Thanks YL for the beta and [Nat](https://twitter.com/potatotaters) for the sense-check.

* * *

She meets him on one of her fast food pilgrimages after a night out. London, 3am: the twilight hour when revellers like her stumble out of clubs still buzzed on cheap vodka, weaving past street cleaners who wear sullen expressions and bright orange vests, circling like moths around the fluorescent lights of the nearest greasy-carb pitstop.

“One Kentaco, please,” Rey tells the harried-looking bloke behind the counter of the Camden High Street KFC. Some things in life, Rey thinks, are guaranteed – death, taxes, and the siren call of deep fried chicken after a girls’ night out. The restaurant is buzzing, and Rey wobbles a bit in her heels as she focuses on the white and red countertop, willing the world to stop tilting for a moment. She’s drunk, but not  _ that _ drunk, and she remembers that Rose and Kaydel are nearby. Rose is outside, engrossed in a rather literal game of tongue twister with Mr. Dark and Winsome with the dreads and his South London accent. Meanwhile Kaydel had peeled off “to look for a late-night vegan Falafel”. So Rey stands alone at the counter, laser focused on ordering her taco and completing her carb-fuelling mission.

“And here I was thinking the US had a monopoly on weird fast foods,” comes a warm voice to her right. Rey turns and drinks in the body that accompanies that baritone sound – a  _ very  _ masculine specimen has just made himself at home next to her. He stands a respectful enough distance away, but leans on the Formica counter with the assurance of someone about to make a royal proclamation. She takes in the polished dress shoes, tailored suit, the sliver of chest revealed by the two buttons of his dress shirt he’s left open right at the top. She admires his wavy sable hair, authoritative smirk, and whiskey-coloured eyes. Meanwhile, he surveys her like he’s found either the answer to the world’s most interesting question, or a blip in a series of patterns that he’s not noticed before.

Rey’s no stranger to the nighttime mating rituals of the 1%, or the flirtatiousness evident in his tone. So she plays. 

“This is a country that still celebrates black pudding. A fried scab, if you think about it. Our arteries were made to suffer in solidarity with yours.” 

“Oh, I believe that. The British commitment to god-awful foods is almost noble.” 

Rey snorts. He stays stock still, and for a few seconds it’s just the two of them assessing each other while a few people behind them in the line sigh in annoyance. A lady behind Rey pointedly adjusts her parka with her elbows out, as if the intrusion might compel Rey to move faster. 

“Make it two and throw in a chocolate sundae,” the tall man finally says to the cashier. Tall Man reaches into his pocket and slides a crisp twenty quid note across the counter. “Keep the change.”

The cashier tries to pass Tall Man the change back with a  _ who the fuck tips at a KFC _ face, but he seems not to notice. Rey raises her hands in finger guns at Tall Man as an imitation of  _ thanks. _

Minutes later, they’ve slid into a booth to face each other. The N29 night bus roars past outside, and she can just make out the universal late-night munchies tune, Shakira’s  _ Waka Waka, _ warbling softly in the background. She hums along for a bit. 

“So, an American in London.” Rey proclaims. “What brings you to our desolate shore?” 

“Better tea,” he deadpans. “That, and work. Closing an acquisition.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Honestly? It’s about as dry as the chicken wrapped around this taco. What’s in this thing anyway?” he says, holding up the taco to peer at it intensely.

The pang Rey feels is quick and sudden, and she wonders how it’d feel to have his focus on her like that. Just as quickly, Rey chastises herself for feeling jealous of a fried chicken sandwich. 

“The shell’s fried chicken, and inside there’s shredded lettuce, ground beef, and an amount of plastic cheese so extreme my Italian forebears would probably flagellate me from beyond the grave.” Rey says, staring Tall Man dead in the eye. 

He lifts the Kentaco with a dubious stare, and opens his mouth like he’s about to take a bite, but she stops him.

“Wait! You can’t just  _ eat  _ a Kentaco. There’s one crucial part.”

He gives her an unamused look. “I thought the cardinal rule was not to get between a drunkard and his fast food at 3am.”

“Just wait.”

She reaches into her bag and pulls out a tiny sized bottle of Cholula hot sauce, and shakes a few drops on both their Kentacos before she shoves it back in her clutch. 

“Now, we can eat.”

He shrugs and acquiesces. 

For a minute or so, they tuck into their poultry-taco-hybrid-horror sandwiches. The taste of fried chicken, salt, and carb is an immediate endorphin rush after hours of standing in heels and shooting tequila with an overexcited Rose, and Rey can’t help but moan with delight. When she opens her eyes again, she catches Tall Man with his mouth slightly agape, and a piece of lettuce is threatening to flop out of the chicken taco shell. Rey reaches out to push the lettuce back in and gestures at him to eat, and he seems to remember for a second that there’s a purpose to being in a fried chicken shop in the dead of night beyond paying for a stranger’s food and making what is – admittedly – very entertaining banter. 

As he eats, Rey reaches down to clean a spot of mayo on her sequinned skirt, and she also realises his eyes are roving from her lap up to her face, and back down again. 

She finds she doesn’t mind.

“So? What’s the verdict?” Rey asks.

“Not bad. But it’s 3am, and everything tastes good after five G&Ts.”

“You can’t sit there and insinuate that the Kentaco is a subpar late night snack. I place it right up there between the Beigel Bagel and a Kentish Town Kebab.”

He scrunches his face in confusion. “Were you saying actual words, or are you making this shit up?”

She sits straighter on her side of the booth and their knees touch, a glance of contact that sends a small shiver up her spine. In the same moment, Rey makes a decision.

“Oh my god. Okay, give me your phone.”

He looks stunned, but reaches into his suit jacket and hands it to her. It’s the latest iPhone with the largest screen, but in his hands, it looks like a toy. She idly wonders how his fingertips might feel if he traced them across her skin.

“Here’s my number,” she says, thumbs flying across the keyboard, “and we’re going to try all these foods at some point. If you’ve not eaten a kebab, you haven’t lived.”

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, giving her a glimpse of his crooked teeth. It seems to humanise him somewhat. This Savile Row-adorned Adonis with the dangerous dimples.

“A beautiful woman giving me her number at a McDonalds. That’s new.”

She pins him with her stare. “Sir, this is a KFC.” Her own mouth quirks up. “And this beautiful woman has a name, thank you. I’m Rey.”

“Ben. And the pleasure’s mutual.” 

##

When Ben’s with Rey, they experience a lot of firsts.

The first night Ben tries a Double Down is the first time he kisses her. He’s terrified of how quickly his body responds to Rey’s, as if a part of his soul’s found a lighthouse after years of treading water. 

The first morning he tries a Cronut is the morning after he makes Rey come three times in his hotel bed. On his way out to Dominique Ansel’s, Ben speaks with the hotel manager and uses every ounce of his considerable charisma to persuade the man not to evict them from the premises, downplaying the noise complaints from the night before.

The first time he tries a pizza roll is the same evening she rides his face. And as he licks upwards into her, he’s never been more grateful for the years he logged on the varsity swim team and his ability to forego oxygen for extended periods, because the payoff is Rey shuddering with pleasure right on top of him. Later, with her curled up in his arms, he feels like he’s discovered a new way of breathing that’s less about his lungs, and more an exhalation of something profound he’d notched up in his soul years ago. 

The first autumn she takes him to Peckham for jerk chicken is the same night he confesses that he loves her. She says nothing for a full ten seconds and he wonders if he’s made an awful mistake, but then she spears four pieces of plantain onto her reusable fork, raises it towards his mouth, and simply says: “I love you, too”.

(Over the months, Ben’s also added a third more distance and three levels of incline on his daily treadmill runs to make up for the increased calorie intake, but it’s okay, because she’s now usually there running with him – keeping up and pushing him further each time.) 

The first time they fight, it’s because they’re both stressed from work, but he also knows it’s his fault for instigating. So he treks through the slush to Waitrose for an embarrassingly large bouquet and a giant bar of Toblerone. When he returns with his peace offerings, she pulls him into his bedroom, and they both forget about the chocolate for some time. 

Topping up the stash of frozen pizzas in Rey and Rose’s fridge becomes a matter of instinct, always ready for when their friends pile into the ladies’ shoebox Stratford apartment for their weekly Netflix marathons. Hux even shows up for these and stops complaining about the lack of ‘97 Pinot Noir after Finn rolls his eyes and shoves a can of Guinness in his hand instead. 

As winter eases into spring, he takes her to his favourite Italian place and rubs circles on her back in the glass lift up to the 67th floor of The Shard. They’re there to meet his parents. She uses the wrong fork for the main course, but they shoot shit-eating grins at each other over handmade ravioli as Leia hides her smile behind a wine glass, and Han for once doesn’t complain about the steak being overpriced. When Rey goes to the bathroom and Ben settles the bill, his mother lays a hand on his and says “she’s wonderful”, and Ben agrees. They all forego the fancy desserts and end up splitting Apple Pies and Oreo McFlurries at the nearest McDonalds afterwards. 

The same night, he fires off the email that’s been sitting in his drafts for months, and informs Snoke that he intends to stay. 

And on their first anniversary, Ben drags Rey back to the same Camden High Street KFC. They’ve had a five-course meal, an evening of outrageously priced wine and a sojourn to an underground jazz club, but this feels like their tradition now. He buys a five piece bucket for them and tries to distract her with smalltalk and wry observations about the other late night revellers. He smiles as he remembers starting an impulsive conversation with a beautiful woman – this effervescent presence who he just wanted to know a glimmer of – but who turned his world upside down with her generosity, intelligence, and love. 

He fingers the cool metal of the spare key in his pocket. It’s a new one to his apartment that he had cut three weeks ago, and he tries not to fidget as he carries a red plastic tray over to their booth. Rey’s eyes are wide as dinner plates at the sight of the chicken. 

He waits until she’s devoured a piece of thigh and wiped her fingers on a napkin before he slides a small mountain of mashed potatoes over to Rey, with the key. 

Rey’s elbows freeze on the table and she stops mid-chew to look up at him. And her eyebrows quirk, but she doesn’t seem totally surprised. 

“Want to upgrade movie night to a bigger apartment?” Ben says.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Rey replies, and her smile lights up his insides like a Christmas tree. 

Weeks later, when the last of her boxes arrives at his place, and they’ve waved goodbye to Rose and Finn, she hits speed dial to their favourite takeout place and orders two Pepperonis with extra cheese. He takes the phone from her, and adds two green side salads.

“Because, balance.” Ben says after he hangs up.

“Mm.” Rey responds, pressing an index finger to her mouth. “I can figure out some ways to burn those calories off. Can’t you?”

He starts a timer on his phone as he kisses her, and they work up an appetite with extreme thoroughness.

When the doorbell chimes ten minutes early, Rey answers it clad only in Ben’s oversized button-up shirt, and the delivery guy makes a pointed effort to ignore the sight of their clothes strewn all around the living room. 

They leave the driver a very generous tip before they eat their dinner, then proceed to ruin each other over, and over, and over again. 

**Author's Note:**

> So there wasn't any tension but I just love happy Reylo ok, pls don't throw chikky nuggets at me.
> 
> Some links:
> 
> [Black Pudding](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_pudding) which is delicious, btw.
> 
> [Beigel Bake](https://londonist.com/london/food/things-you-probably-didn-t-know-about-beigel-bake)
> 
> Rey's got [hot sauce in her bag](https://www.cholula.com/)
> 
> [Double Down](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Double_Down_\(sandwich\))
> 
> [Dominique Ansel's](https://www.instagram.com/dominiqueansellondon/?hl=en)
> 
> [Pizza Rolls](https://www.tasteofhome.com/recipes/pizza-rolls/)
> 
> [Jerk Chicken](https://london.eater.com/maps/london-best-jerk-chicken-jamaican-jerk-restaurants)
> 
> [The Shard](https://www.the-shard.com/)
> 
> All you need to know about Waitrose is that it's fancy and Ben would absolutely shop there.
> 
> ##
> 
> Kudos, comments, concrit welcome! Comments are a writer's manna and always appreciated. Thanks for reading.
> 
> And find me being loud on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bobaheadshark)


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